


We Still Have Tomorrow

by glitterbb



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Confessions, M/M, S3E09 - Who's Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterbb/pseuds/glitterbb
Summary: Episode 3x09 Coda - Connor goes back home with Oliver, who wants answers.





	

Silence reverberated off the walls as the door slammed shut to 303. Connor stood meekly in the door way as Oliver dropped himself down heavily on the couch. He still wasn’t sure he should be here, but Oliver had asked, and Michaela needed some time with her mother, she had enough on her plate as it stood.

Everything felt wrong, the knowledge that nothing would be the same as it was yesterday, knowing he’d never get a chance to tell Wes he didn’t mean those things. The chance to make up for what he’d said. It all felt so painful and final. He felt numb from the pain. From the grief.

Oliver looked up at him, eyes still red rimmed from all the tears. Connor wasn’t sure what he wanted, what he was expecting, even if he could provide him with anything, but he knew he needed to try. For once he needed to try and be the strong one. 

“You should sleep.” Connor sighed, “you look exhausted.” He whispered, stepping forwards. Oliver shook his head, fresh tears falling.

“We need to talk.” He croaked, turning to look at Connor, eyes pleading.

“We can do that in the morning.” Connor reasoned, perching on the coffee table in front of the other man. “You’ll feel better after you sleep.” Oliver shook his head again, more forcefully this time.

“I thought you were dead, Connor.” He hissed. “I thought I might not get another chance to put all this right.” He swallowed. “I’m not putting it off anymore.” He stood up, pulling his jacket off and hanging it on the rack behind the door. Connor watched as the older man crossed the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. He crossed the room, placing the glasses down next to Connor and pouring liquid in each. He held one out, insisting for Connor to take it. “Let’s toast your sobriety.” He mumbled, a sarcastic smile splitting his lips, downing the drink in one. His eyes gave away his true feelings. He grabbed the bottle, refilling his glass quickly. “Let’s drink to Sam Keating.”

Connor let out a low sigh, bringing his glass to his lips. He tipped the liquid back letting it slide warmly down his throat.

“So you finally figured it out?” Connor asked glumly. “What took you so long?” He swallowed hard. 

“I don’t know?” Oliver shrugged. “Loose lips sink ships I guess.” He leant back in the couch. “I still need you to fill in the details.” He held out the bottle to Connor, who took it cautiously.

“Where do you want me to start?” He whispered, topping his glass up again. He screwed the lid back on, pushing the bottle away as he studied Oliver. The older man pressed his lips together.

“Did you do it?” He asked calmly, his stare cold and blank. Connor shook his head . “But you were there?” Oliver pushed. Connor nodded slowly.

“I helped them get rid of the body.” He sighed, his shoulders lifting as the words tumbled from his lips. It felt freeing, liberating, all the tension he’d carried around for the last year dissolving away.

“Them?” Oliver mumbled, eyebrow cocked. Connor took a deep breath. He’d come this far after all.

“Wes killed Sam.” Connor announced, dropping his head allowing the truth to hang in the air. He wanted Oliver to process it before he looked at his reaction. He was surprised however to hear the other man let out an audible snort.

“His body is barely cold, Connor.” He laughed morosely. “You’re really going to make him the fall guy so soon?”

“It’s the truth.” Connor shrugged. “Sam attacked Rebecca, Wes hit him to get him off of her.” He explained. “He didn’t mean to kill him.” He whispered, shivering at the memory. Everything he’d tried to forget came flooding back.

The words came spilling from his mouth, every admission made him feel lighter, his mood lifted slightly as he explained everything. How they’d burnt the body, how Annalise had known, how Connor had tried to come clean. Oliver sat stoically, trying to take it all in, his face giving away nothing, save for the odd wince when things got too graphic, or too much to process.

Connor let it all out, laying everything out on the table, not sure if he was helping or sealing his fate. Everything at the Hapstall mansion came flooding out, Sinclair, Asher, Annalise’s attempt to cover up.

“She told me to shoot her.” He sighed. “Told me if I didn’t that she’d come after you instead.” Oliver’s expression softened slightly, suddenly slightly fearful. Connor powered forwards. “I couldn’t do it.” He whispered. “I wanted to protect you but I couldn’t do that.” Oliver nodded as if understanding, accepting Connor’s decision, maybe approving it even. Connor could dream of that at least.

Oliver remained still, stony faced, his expression gave nothing away.

“Tonight I was with Thomas.” He swallowed, figuring he might as well rip it off like a band-aid. No more secrets and this was included. Oliver’s face contorted as he looked to the ceiling with a sigh. “He messaged me on Humpr and I….” He tailed off. Even he couldn’t really explain why he’d agreed to it. Thomas wasn’t his type, he knew he was an asshole and yet. He swallowed hard. “I guess I wanted to do it to hurt you.” He paused. “Because I’m a terrible person.”

He looked up, Oliver’s eyes fixed, staring straight at him, swimming with a mixture of hurt, sadness and disappointment. Connor still hated knowing he’d caused it.

“I’m a terrible person.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “And I’ve done terrible terrible things, to you, to other people.” He swallowed hard. “You deserve so much better than me, Ollie.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you.” He mumbled, tears lining his eyes. “And I only ever wanted to protect you, but I’ve only ended up hurting you instead.”

Oliver licked his lips, finally giving a small shake of the head. He shifted to the edge of the sofa, their knees touching, leaning in closer to the younger man. 

“We’ve hurt each other.” He whispered, throat rasping with dryness from listening for so long. “If I knew what you were trying to escape from, I’d never have done what I did.” He closed his eyes. “I just want you to trust me.” He paused. “Let me protect you for once.”

“But…” Connor tried to interject, Oliver cutting him off. 

“I’m a big boy, Connor. I can handle this.” He reached out, placing a hand on Connor’s jaw, forcing him to look at him. “I want to help you.” 

Connor’s eyes pierced Oliver’s, watering with a mix of love and relief. 

“But why?” He choked. “You can get as far away from this as you can,” Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t be there though would you?” He whispered back, a smile playing on his lips. “I genuinely thought I’d lost you tonight.” He sighed. “I thought we were never going to get a chance to make this right but we do.” He paused, looking away, rubbing a hand across his temple. “When I broke up with you, it came so easily because I knew I’d still see you every day. But tonight? When I thought I might never get to see you again…” He trailed off, pressing his lips together “I need you too.” He whispered.

Connor’s heart skipped a beat, fearing deep down this was all too good to be true, that there had to be a catch somewhere, but Oliver looked as sincere as he’d ever seen him, his eyes firm and insistent, his hand gently clasping Connor’s knee.

“I’m going to bed.” Oliver announced, pushing himself up. “It’s late and I’m tired.” He mumbled, taking the empty glass from Connor’s hand and pushing both onto the kitchen counter, they could both wait until morning. Connor stood, slowly pushing the throw pillows to one end of the couch. “You coming?” Oliver’s voice cut through the silence. Connor looked up, surprised by the invitation.

“Are you sure?” Connor’s voice trembled. “I mean… I’m happy to…” He gestured to the couch. He’d slept on Michaela’s for six weeks and he knew Oliver’s couch was much more comfortable. They’d fallen asleep on it together enough times.

“I don’t know about you but I don’t really feel like being alone tonight?” Oliver shrugged. Connor smiled gratefully and followed behind, looking away awkwardly as Oliver undressed and slid under the covers, still not sure of the boundaries. Not wanting to push too far or cross the line. 

Connor pulled his shirt off, peeling his t-shirt over his head, dropping them in a pile on the chair in the corner of the room. He paused, unbuckling his trousers and adding them to the pile. He crossed the room, lifting the cover and climbing underneath. 

This bed felt familiar, and relaxing, and the weight of Oliver’s body beside him felt some kind of comfort to Connor. He felt the tension of the last few weeks melt away slowly as his breaths deepened in the darkness. 

“Ollie…” Connor whispered, staring up at the ceiling. “We’re going to be okay, right?” He mumbled unsurely. He knew Oliver couldn’t possibly make any promises. He was taken a back as the older man’s arm slid across his torso. Oliver rolled towards him, burrowing into his side. Connor’s arm instinctively slid around his shoulders, holding him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the other man’s head.

“I don’t know Con.” He whispered back gently. “But at least we still have tomorrow.”


End file.
